I have this dream that comes to me every so often. I can say that its always quite the same in every instance, though I can't say what exactly an instance of it is. I always wake up after that dream in a simlar state, for I know that I have been told by the stranger those words that do escape me. And for a brief moment, after I regain consciousness but before the knowledge of the dream has slipped away, I feel the greatest sensation of contentment. But it all passes in time.

So James Joyce tried to elevate meaning by putting so much into a single line that it might burst into a life of its own. I see where you hail from I think. You first have to scrape away all mud and dirt to start again anew.

Truth = Beauty or Beauty = Truth. Which comes first?

My favorite line by Bob Dylan, plastered on a coriander cubicle next to a sharpened quote from C~ and a black and white picture of K~ (who also strangely enough looks a little like an elf): 'and every one of them words rang true and glowed like burning coals. Pouring off of every page like it was written in my soul...'
- posted by Sigurd2/19/2004 12:41:00 PM